


Firecracker

by Trobadora



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Post-Episode: s10e12 The Doctor Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 04:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13023567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/pseuds/Trobadora
Summary: "Isn't it obvious?" Missy said brightly. "Since you've taken the part of the villain, I had to go and play the hero."





	Firecracker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paynesgrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paynesgrey/gifts).



Missy stared at the readings with a speculative look. She'd just tracked down the Eye of Praxis to this planet, where its last owner had vanished some decades ago - but instead of arriving at a backwater where nothing ever happened, she was face to face with utter chaos.

There seemed to be _something_ in progress down there - a revolt or a coup or an invasion, no one appeared to be quite sure. There had been explosions in odd places, but no one seemed to know why. The local news services were full of useless drivel, and what passed for government down there among the monkey-brains didn't appear any better informed.

Oh, and who had thought it was a good idea to release half-charged Graxnarian components into the sewers? That didn't even make sense. Now, storing the gas down there and letting it gradually charge with the biochemical reactions until it blew - _that_ would have made some sense, and created a decent-sized explosion to boot. But just releasing it like this? 

All that did was add nice little spikes to the energy readings in odd places, but the wavelength was quite characteristic. It didn't even disrupt sensor sweeps.

Well, sweeps from the spruced-up sensors of the shuttle Missy had commandeered for her treasure hunt, anyway.

It was pandemonium down there, people running scared, rioting all over the place. Who the hell knew if the Eye was even still anywhere near where it was supposed to be?

Well. Missy could just go back in time before this whole mess, snatch up her quarry quietly, and be gone. But that was rather dull, wasn't it? A bit of pandemonium never hurt anyone. 

Never hurt _her_ , anyway - no such luck for the locals, of course. Poor little things; what _had_ they got themselves into?

Hm. She might have another opportunity down there, if she wanted.

Eyes gleaming with the reflected light of recorded explosions on the screen before her, Missy reached for her vortex manipulator's teleport controls.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The helmet's visor snapped closed with an audible click. Missy stretched her spine and looked down at herself in the black uniform she'd taken off some kind of guard or policeman or toy soldier. One last glance at the chaos in the street behind her; then she made her way into the building whose basement where the Graxnarian gas had first been released. If she was going to get into the middle of this, she could at least satisfy her curiosity.

This was just too interesting to pass up, and interesting things on silly little planets like this were few and far between. Even if there was some sort of invasion going on.

The heavy metal door leading to the basement facilities wasn't even locked. Missy nonetheless paused for a moment, her hand on the old-fashioned handle. There appeared to be some sort of argument going on inside: three voices, all speaking the local language, all clearly on edge.

"What are we supposed to _do_ with her now?" a hysterical male voice exclaimed. "I can't even get through to the police, the comm system's clogged!"

What a perfect cue for a Time Lady dressed up in a local uniform. With an energetic push, she threw the door open - with rather more speed than a local could have produced, Gallifreyan anatomy be thanked. It clicked into a magnetic hold on the wall and stayed open.

"Hello!" she announced brightly, not bothering to push up her visor. "What's this, then?" 

There were five life-forms arrayed before her. Four of them were staring at Missy, wide-eyed surprise quickly giving way to acceptance. (Uniforms could be _so_ useful.) The fifth, a rather eccentrically-dressed woman, was clearly a captive. Something like spare cables wrapped around her legs and her forearms, and she had a gag in her mouth. _She_ looked neither surprised nor accepting, but was glaring at everyone.

They all looked like Time Lords, of course. The planetary population was human-descended, after all, though they'd lost contact with their mother planet for a few centuries before regaining it not so long ago. Just another colony abandoned during the Onirian War.

Missy only half-heard two of the unrestrained locals almost falling over themselves to explain how they'd caught this and captured this saboteur on the utility level just as she was releasing dangerous substances into the sewer system, because a HUD had just sprung into existence before her eyes.

"How perfectly horrible," Missy murmured, distracted. The scanner was part of the local gear and not very good at penetrating walls, so it hadn't kicked in until Missy was actually inside the room. Now it showed heat signatures and heart beats, as if she couldn't see the people in front of her clearly enough already.

_Wait._

Five heat signatures. Six heart beats.

Five life forms: four of them local, one decidedly not. Twin heart beats and a body temperature much lower than the others'.

And a brain pattern of infinitely greater complexity, not that the primitive little scanner could have picked that up.

Behind her helmet's opaque visor, Missy's mouth stretched into a grin of unholy delight. _Oh look, it's my birthday! And I'm getting _all_ the gifts._

"Oooh," Missy cooed. "What _do_ we have here?"

And she pushed up the visor of her helmet, grinning at the enticingly trussed-up woman, whose generalised glare suddenly turned _very_ specific and personal. Missy turned her smirk up to eleven. 

And of course - now it made sense, all that stuff with the gas release. The Doctor had discovered the device, and releasing the gas had been the most expedient way of disarming it. 

The locals were looking at Missy with bemusement, but she breezed right past them, gripping the Doctor by the silly colourful braces she was wearing this time round, pulling her to her feet. She considered for a moment, but untying her, even partially, just wouldn't have been sporting. 

"I'll take this one off your hands," she announced. "Since you've so nicely captured the villain for us, I'll just go ahead and take her to interrogation, shall I?"

And she threw the Doctor, trussed up as she was, over her shoulder and marched out of the door, ignoring the grunting noises in her ear that no doubt were meant to be a complaint, pulling the heavy door shut behind her.

No one had even protested. The sweet little things were probably glad to have that problem taken off their hands. _Not so grateful this time, were they, Doctor?_

One quick move of fingers against the controls at her wrist, and _zap_ , the teleport jerked them through folded space and dumped them right back on Missy's shuttle.

She, in turn, dumped the Doctor on the floor, and was treated to the spectacle of her captive trying to open her mouth, being stopped by the gag, and having to settle for another glare instead.

A moment later, a calculating look grew in the Doctor's eyes, and Missy could actually _see_ the Doctor being thrown into the most entertaining doubts about just who it was she'd run into. My, my. Was she just now realising she had no idea which Missy she was dealing with - where she was on their shared timeline? For all the Doctor knew, Missy might have been fresh from her own regeneration, or right in the middle of that lovely plan with the dead people and the Cybermen that the Doctor had so callously torn down. Oh yes, the Doctor was all too aware of that now, wasn't she? And clearly relieved her initial impulse to say whatever it was she'd meant to say had been, quite literally, obstructed. 

Missy giggled and pulled off her helmet entirely, shaking out her ponytail. Any other hairdo would have been uncomfortable, under that thing - and now, that had turned into an entirely unexpected asset. She'd made a few changes to her look, over her time in the Vault. But none of that was visible now.

She smirked down at the Doctor. _No clues about my timeline here. Oopsie!_

Though, hm. Even if the Doctor knew that Missy had already lived through those tedious years in the Vault, not to mention the business with that appalling Mondasian colony ship - would it make any difference? What might the Doctor expect, meeting her again? 

Something in Missy's chest ached, hearts stuttering out of synch. For all the Doctor knew, Missy had left her - him - to die there, alone. Well, with all those Mondasians, and Nardole, and Cyber-Bill, but that hardly counted. Missy had left with her previous self, and hadn't come back. What else _could_ the Doctor think?

Missy leaned forward, peered into the Doctor's grumpy face. She grimaced and, after a moment, grudgingly loosened the gag, pulling it off the Doctor's mouth.

It didn't matter what the Doctor thought. It was all in the past, now. Besides, it might be centuries in the past for the Doctor, by now. Who knew when this new regeneration fit into the Doctor's life?

The new face was tolerable, at least, though the hair was not exactly the Doctor's best, and the eyebrows were nothing short of disappointing. 

The Doctor's mouth worked for a moment. "What were you doing down there?" she asked eventually, shifting uncomfortably on the floor. New accent; that was a nice surprise. "Let me out of this," she added after a moment, almost as an afterthought, lifting her tied forearms in Missy's direction.

Missy rolled her eyes. It might as well have been, _Were you responsible for that?_ She'd have been silly to expect anything else. 

"Nope," she said, widening her eyes dramatically. "Why would I? I've captured the dastardly villain, haven't I?" 

_And whatever shall I do with her now?_ That was the real question.

"Not funny, Missy." The glare was as potent as ever.

Missy pouted. "You're a sore loser." She turned away, busying herself with the console, scanning the planet again and pretending she couldn't see the Doctor considering her bonds. Watching out of the corner of her eye nonetheless.

"Like you aren't?" the Doctor snapped back, as if she had nothing more important to think about than that.

But that movement, that tug, that flicker of disappointment - oh my, the Doctor had just now tested the strength of the cables holding her? She hadn't even _tried_ down there? What the hell had her plan been?

Probably something boring like talking the locals around, though the gag would have forestalled that. Maybe she'd meant to use that puppy dog look of hers, the one about half her regenerations had been pretty damn good at. The other half, of course, had still tried to pull it off, no matter how little it worked.

Well, regardless - the cables weren't too difficult to figure out. The Doctor would manage quickly enough, once she actually bothered to try.

"I don't lose," Missy proclaimed haughtily. The Doctor only snorted.

Missy sank down into one of the seats by the console, twirled the chair around and tilted her head at the Doctor, crossing her ankles in front of her. She missed her skirts, bizarrely, as if she hadn't spent far more centuries in trousers. 

"So what _were_ you doing there?" the Doctor demanded again.

"Isn't it obvious?" Missy said brightly. "Since you've taken the part of the villain, I had to go and play the hero. Look, I've saved them from having to decide what to do with you!"

The Doctor snorted. "Wouldn't do for us to be on the same side, would it," she muttered, sounding bitter. 

How interesting. Was that how she saw it? Missy smiled, a bit sharply. "You could have joined me centuries ago, Doctor."

She'd offered, more than once. _I want my friend back_ , she'd even said, once upon a time, not all _that_ long ago, as she'd turned dead people into Cybermen and offered the Doctor an army to conquer the universe. The Doctor, annoyingly, had always refused - then, and every other time. 

"I don't like Cybermen," the Doctor said, predictably, clearly fishing.

That was all long in the past, of course, and though she'd never admit it, Missy had come to understand why the Doctor had turned her down. Still, if the Doctor refused a friendship that was strictly on the Master's terms, Missy could see no great improvement in letting the Doctor turn the tables. Besides, misdirecting the Doctor about her timeline was so much more fun. 

Missy huffed. "Who does? Though they can be useful at times."

The Doctor only glared at her. "What now, Missy? Heroes don't leave people tied up, you know. And I need to go back down there - there's an invasion going on!"

"And they'd clearly be helpless without you, I can see that," Missy scoffed. "Well. I do so enjoy a spot of chaos."

A glare. "What did you _do_ , Missy?"

Missy laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know." She shook her head, grinning in delight as she kicked her legs. "Go ahead, do go back down there - you'll find out."

The Doctor would, indeed, even if all she'd find was that Missy had had nothing to do with the local chaos. For once. _Oops._

"So, _villain_ ," she said, drawing the word out deliciously. "Have you been naughty, Doctor? How did you antagonise those poor creatures so thoroughly, so quickly? But then you've always been good at that, haven't you."

The Doctor scowled. "I didn't mean to give their friend a concussion!"

Missy giggled. "Didn't you?" She injected as much scepticism into her tone as she could manage, which was quite the amount, even if she did judge it so herself.

"Well," the Doctor huffed, "I'd rather have not, anyway. But he wouldn't let me at the Graxnar generator, and the gas had already saturated to 30%."

"Mm," Missy hummed. At 35%, of course, it would no longer have been safe to release into the atmosphere. She pursed her lips into a condescending look anyway. "And concussions were absolutely essential?"

The Doctor jerked her head to throw some of that blonde hair out of her face. "It wasn't my fault! I didn't have a choice." 

"And that makes it right, does it?" Missy asked solicitously.

The Doctor rolled her eyes, and her arms twitched as if she was trying to throw up her hands for good measure. Of course, they were still conveniently tied together. "It should," she grumbled.

"They don't think so," Missy said, realising too late that she'd slipped right back into the old familiar rhythm of their conversations in the Vault. Endless debates over ethics, morality, right and wrong, intentions versus results. Old habits, and all that. 

The Doctor's eyes had sharpened, too. She could hardly be sure, not yet, but she'd just had a major clue. Damn. Missy scowled, knowing it didn't cover up anything.

"Are you done gloating now?" the Doctor asked finally, her voice carefully neutral.

Missy pursed her lips, tension strung tight in her. She'd have liked some convenient Cybermen to blow up, right about now. They did come in useful for that. Instead, she slowly rose from her seat. "For now," she decided.

The Doctor tilted her head back, clearly calculating Missy's reasons for standing up. _Tough luck, sweetcheeks. I don't even know yet myself._

"Then untie me." Calmly.

Sniggering, Missy sauntered over and crouched next to the Doctor, peering into her face. She reached out, trailing a hand along the side of the Doctor's face, down her neck and along her braces to her waistline. Then she leaned forward, whispering conspirationally, "Why? Don't you like it?" 

A complicated expression flickered over the Doctor's face. "Missy, please," she murmured. Clearly taking a chance.

_Please what, Doctor?_ Which was a very good question, and Missy didn't at all like that she couldn't seem to come up with an answer. Something was vibrating under her skin.

She pulled one of the Doctor's braces away from her chest with a hooked finger, then let it snap back. "Maybe later," she said blithely, turned around, and left the room.

  
  


* * *

  
  


To her annoyance, Missy found herself breathing hard, leaning back against a wall strut just outside the door to the room she'd left the Doctor in. Not that the small shuttle had more than a handful of rooms. She struggled to control her lungs. What good was a respiratory bypass if it still left you like that?

And what, what, _what_ was she supposed to do with the Doctor?

The damnable woman had clearly caught on now, no longer distracted by Missy's deflections. She knew. She knew when they'd last seen each other, and where.

And Missy wasn't sure she wanted to know what the Doctor thought about that.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"You got loose," Missy said, miming a pout as she stepped back inside, her skirts swirling around her legs. Much more comfortable than those close-fitting trousers.

The Doctor nonchalantly shrugged off the last of the cables, sucking in her lower lip, making her chin dimple. "You expected me to."

"True." Then, condescendingly, "I know I tend to have high expectations, but you do sometimes manage to meet them."

Sometimes. Only sometimes. Better than anyone else, still.

"You didn't leave me down there," the Doctor said eventually, entirely too casually. And the unspoken _unlike the Mondasian ship_ rang in Missy's ears, very loudly indeed.

Damn, damn, damn.

After all, the Doctor didn't know. Never would, if she had any say in the matter - the Doctor didn't have to know just how close Missy had come to letting her past self get the better of her. _Or_ how far she'd been prepared to go to turn back and, for once, finally, stand with the Doctor. It hadn't happened, and it was embarrassing, and best not to dwell on it now.

Missy made herself shrug. "You'd have freed yourself anyway."

Clear eyes met Missy's. "Yes," the Doctor said. "And I got out of the colony ship, too." 

Well. If they were stating the obvious, Missy could get in on that act, no trouble. "So you did." She managed a sharp grin. "Not regretting it, are you?"

A glare. "Which part? Surviving? Staying?"

Missy shrugged. "Both? Either? How about not trying to stop me? Not to mention _me_." She'd done that herself, in the end - stopped her younger regeneration. Not that the Doctor knew.

The Doctor's gaze turned heavy. Missy fancied she could see the thoughts churning behind them, rolling round and round and round. 

"I didn't want you to die," the Doctor said after a too-long moment, very quietly.

Missy's eyes went wide. "I did leave you."

A snort, a shrug, an eyeroll. "You didn't stay. But you didn't stab me in the back, either."

Missy barely suppressed a gasp. _Too apropos, Doctor. You have no idea what you're saying._

The Doctor's eyes grew sharper, but all she said was, "That was good enough for me." Just that.

Good enough, was it? Nothing else had ever been. Something in Missy's chest was seething. "That's so sweet, sugar," she mocked. So what if her hearts felt unaccountably out of synch again?

"Oh, don't even," the Doctor snapped, scrunching her nose as she glared. At least she'd lost that annoying quiet calmness. "I didn't really expect you to stay, you know? I wanted you to - I always wanted you to - but all I ever _needed_ from you was for us not to be enemies." She shook her head, blonde hair flying, then tucked the strands behind her ears with both hands. "I knew I was going to die. I'm not sure I even thought I'd regenerate. I could hardly be surprised you chose to live." A wry laugh. "Any sane person would."

_I'm not sane, my dear Doctor,_ Missy thought. _Maybe that's why I wanted to stand with you._ But she said nothing, merely smiled her enigmatic smile and hoped the Doctor couldn't see beneath.

The Doctor examined her for a long moment, then nodded. "Mind sending me back down to that planet? I was in the middle of something, you know."

"What, not asking again if it's all my dastardly plan?"

The Doctor didn't rise to the bait. "Taking a chance." A shrug. "But I'm not going to let anyone blow up half the planet."

On the screen, the still-running scan showed several more bombs, but none of them closer than ten or twelve hours to detonation. The first wave had already blown, destroying any trace of the characteristic gas in the process; the second was timed for much later. Whatever the owners of those Graxnar generators were planning, their timeline was clear enough to anyone with access to half-way decent tech.

Which, in this system, meant Missy and the Doctor. 

Missy had kept the scan on the screen deliberately, so the Doctor wouldn't try to rush back down there out of mistaken urgency. Because of course she would have. Silly little short-lived creatures, always taking priority.

Missy looked at her, suddenly feeling very tired. "Suit yourself, Doctor. Should I feel insulted that you're running away from me so quickly?"

The Doctor's eyebrows - annoyingly inexpressive - climbed up. It didn't look like she had any idea what to make of that accusation. She stood there looking dismayed and uncertain, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and her eyes flickered between the screen and Missy, Missy and the screen. 

"I," the Doctor said. She bit her lip, swallowed, looked away for a second. "There's an invasion going on. I have to go back down." Hesitating again. "Be here afterwards?"

What?

"I want my friend back," the Doctor added, sounding revoltingly earnest. As if that explained anything.

Of course, Missy had thought it did, too, once upon a time. But her time in the Vault had taught her better - all those years, decades, and _wanting_ solved nothing at all, not for either of them. But while she was learning that, apparently the Doctor had decided that wanting the same thing, after all, was something she could allow herself to.

"I killed him," Missy snapped. And oops, she hadn't meant to say that, at all. But damned if she was going to let this sentimental nonsense stand. "My other self, the younger one. Old Roundface. Made him dead, because of you, and you think -" She snorted, bitterly. "Are you an idiot? Oh, why am I asking, of course you are."

The Doctor was staring at her, completely taken aback. "You what? Why?"

As if that wasn't obvious. "I told you," she snapped. "You just weren't listening."

_I wanted to stand with you. I told you I did. Not my fault you weren't listening properly, Doctor. Not my fault at all._

"But." The Doctor seemed at a loss for words for once, which was funny to watch, after all. Her mouth worked; her hands gestured wildly; but no words came.

"Yes," Missy said, relishing the cruelty of it. "I murdered someone for you, even if it was my own self. How do you like _that_?"

"Oh," the Doctor said. " _Oh._ " And then she seemed to stall again, blinking rapidly, making aborted gestures. Finally she tried to quiet her hands by gripping her braces, but ended up fidgeting with them instead.

"And it didn't even work, did it," Missy added, harshly. "Because he got me right back, you see. Well, didn't kill me, obviously." She gestured down her own very much alive body, mimed a curtsey. "Not for lack of trying, but - well. Knocked me out but good, and you were long gone by the time I came to." _So what was even the point,_ she didn't add, but if the Doctor knew her at all, she could probably read the thought in Missy's glower.

Abruptly, the Doctor let go of her braces, took a step forward, and another one. Her hands settled on Missy's shoulders, very loosely. "So," she said wryly, "does that mean you'll be here later, after all?"

Missy stared for a second, then snorted a laugh. "That's what you're taking away from this? Are you even more daft than usual, in this regeneration? - _Don't_ answer that."

"Is that a yes?"

"No." Missy waited for the Doctor's face to fall; then she added, sweeping a gesture toward the monitors, "Lovely chaos like that? I'm coming down there with you." Her turn to take a chance.

"Are you, now," the Doctor breathed.

Missy smirked. "Someone might mistake you for a villain again if I'm not there."

"Can't have that," the Doctor agreed, mouth apparently working on autopilot. Back to normal function, then.

"Nope." Missy tilted her head to the side, miming consideration. "Besides, I _have_ been looking for the Eye of Praxis. You help me find it, I might give you a hand with that inept little invasion."

Not that Missy particularly wanted in on the Doctor's crusade for little life-forms all across the universe. But jumping right into the middle of pandemonium again, for a romp? Sounded like fun.

And the Doctor's eyes widened as she realised what Missy had just given away. "It's here? _That's_ why -"

Missy merely grinned. The relic was famous, of course, not that most people - including, oh, about the last half-dozen owners or so - had had any clue what it actually was. But for a Time Lady with enemies who'd just love to kill her in ways that forestalled regeneration, a nova-forged helictic crystal might be a _really_ useful thing.

Missy had got out of it, last time - without regenerating, even. But you couldn't get lucky every time. Best to be prepared.

A moment's hesitation on the Doctor's face. "You think it can be attuned to Time Lord patterns?" 

A wide smile. "Wait and watch."

The Doctor considered her, and the softness that hadn't fled her face at the revelation, the lack of craving, the relief in her eyes, told Missy what she'd already known: in the Doctor's gladness that Missy hadn't been after something worse, she wouldn't even think to take the Eye for herself. Damn her, sentimental creature that she was.

"Well," said the Doctor eventually, nodding to herself, "I suppose I will." She squeezed Missy's shoulders, then let go, spreading her arms widely in invitation. "Shall we go?"

Missy pursed her lips, then moved. She closed the remaining few inches between them until they were touching, front to front. Wrapping her arms around the Doctor's waist, she manipulated the teleport controls behind the Doctor's back. 

"I suppose we shall," she said drily.

A moment later, space folded neatly around them, and they were gone.


End file.
